tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-181859592009-07-12T17:37:47.130-07:00Rambling SoulMarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.comBlogger186125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-48971503983686514062009-06-27T00:20:00.000-07:002009-06-27T00:51:55.558-07:00A visit to The Gipper.<span style="font-size:130%;">Two Fridays ago, my husband and I drove up to Simi Valley (California), about 30 or so miles from my house to pay a visit to </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >The Gipper</span><span style="font-size:130%;">.* When we got there he, </span><a href="http://www.whitehouse.gov/about/presidents/ronaldreagan/"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:130%;" >Ronald Reagan</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">, was waiting for us and all visitors, at the main entrance of the <a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);" href="http://www.reaganlibrary.com/">Reagan Presidential Library and Museum</a>. He was standing tall with a wide grin on his face. I touched him. He was cold as all statues are.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Reagan_stat-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 490px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Reagan_stat-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Reagan_insc-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 202px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Reagan_insc-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Inscription at the foot of the statue.<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Click images to enlarge.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We paid our entrance and got inside the museum. It was filled with memorabilia. There were pictures of him when he was a child; when he was in the service in World War II; when he was a young actor; when he was president of the SAG (Screen Actors Guild); and when he was governor of California. Pictures of him with his wife Nancy and their children; with world leaders; with people of note and others.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/mustang.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 217px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/mustang.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">The original car, a mustang convertible, he used during his campaign as governor of California.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/limosine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 283px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/limosine.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">The limousine, a 1984 Cadillac, was state of the art built exclusively for the president.</span><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/marine-1a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 435px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/marine-1a.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">The helicopter...The Marine One. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/kids-visitors.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 540px; height: 385px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/kids-visitors.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Young visitors come as well to visit and learn about the past president. Here they are guided around by a <a href="http://www.answers.com/topic/docent"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">docent</span></a> who explains everything to them. Just above this floor is...</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/AFO-stc-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 637px; height: 232px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/AFO-stc-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">...The Air Force One.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Visitors are allowed to take a walk through this airplane. They, however, are prohibited from taking pictures of the interior. The quarters inside the plane was somewhat cramped, it being a 707 plane. Nowadays a 747 jumbo jet is used. The plane becomes Air Force One once the president sets foot on it. If it is used by others, not the president, it is not Air Force One. (Two maybe, or three, depending on the rank of the user...maybe. LOL) </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">There is not enough room for me to get the whole plane in one shot. I have to splice three shots together. </span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/AF-Onespec.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 404px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/AF-Onespec.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Information and technical details.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/AF-Oneplan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 540px; height: 203px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/AF-Oneplan.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">The floor plan</span>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/marine-1seal-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 247px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/marine-1seal-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">The seal.</span><br /></div></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/wall-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 540px; height: 380px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/wall-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">In the garden, right behind the library is this piece of the <a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);" href="http://www.dailysoft.com/berlinwall/history/facts.htm">Berlin Wall.</a></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Berlin_insc-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 358px; height: 246px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Berlin_insc-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">About the wall...</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/view.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 540px; height: 380px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/view.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">...and the garden with the view. It was said during the president's memorial service that he loved the view on this place; that on a clear day the Pacific Ocean is visible here.<br /><br />A few steps away was his final resting place...</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/tomb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 540px; height: 380px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/tomb.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">"I know in my heart that man is good<br />that what is right will always eventually triumph<br />and there is purpose and worth to each and every life."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">RONALD WILSON REAGAN<br />February 6, 1911 - June 5, 2004</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">...and we bid goodbye to The President.</span><br /><br /><br />*<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >He played the role of George "The Gipper" Gipp in the film Knute Rockne, All American; from it, he acquired the lifelong nickname "the Gipper.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-4897150398368651406?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-18623601366774981342009-06-24T01:35:00.000-07:002009-06-24T15:41:41.461-07:00Octodad<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/octodad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 486px; height: 332px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/octodad.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The Octopus Dad.</span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />With 8 arms, he can take care of all his 8 babies at the same time. He could be over protective of his little ones. One false move and all 8 tentacles will be on ones neck squeezing the daylights out of the unfortunate one. So beware. Don't ever make fun of his 8 little octobabies.<br /><br />This octopus is at an electronics store in Burbank, California. It's probably about 10' high and placed atop all the display shelves looking angrily at everyone below him.<br /><br />Pssstt...I didn't see the octowife.<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-1862360136677498134?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-8733741800852927402009-06-20T16:20:00.000-07:002009-06-21T08:32:36.886-07:00Summer is here!<span style="font-size:130%;">One day more and officially it's here. Though right now the sky has turned gloomy again and there's a little chill in the air. Truly our weather is unpredictable. Mother Nature is going nuts. LOL<br /><br />Yesterday was the first day of my Summer art class. The sun was up and no clouds were hindering its blazing rays and everyone was dressed light. A handful of old students were gathered at the quad when I got there at 9:30 in the morning. A few new faces were sitting quietly around the concrete tables. The teacher came in a few minutes later. She apologized profusely for coming in late. Then we piled behind </span><span style="font-size:130%;">her as she unlocked the door</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> and we all stepped inside the room as we gathered our painting gears.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/COCview.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 280px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/COCview.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;">The sky was so clear...except for a few scattered clouds.<br />The view from the school atop the hill.</span><br />(click image to enlarge)<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/barometer-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 274px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/barometer-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span>That's how hot it was yesterday afternoon - 82F deg. or 30C deg.<br /><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;">During the last few weeks of the Spring semester, I did not attend the class. That was a point when I could not create anything interesting to paint. I have turned away from copying other people's creative work - photos or paintings. It's cheating. I'm cheating on myself. So there I was at a standstill and could not make myself to go to the class. My teacher in my Fall class had more interesting subjects for us to paint; but she left the class to teach art in high school. She is a cheery and hip kind of person. I like the way she taught us, her students.<br /><br />Now I'm back in the class.<br /><br />I didn't have any materials or subject to paint, so I painted something from memory. It was a scene I've seen when I was a kid. I was six years old then, I think. And the scene keeps popping in my head. I remember it was somewhere in the north, my mom's hometown in the Ilocos Region. How I got there, I have no recollection. I was there is all I can remember, and the scene had been embedded in my head after all these years. It was a nice, tranquil scenery up in the mountain.<br /><br />I painted the scene in an 8" x 10" canvas. I need to work some more on it, maybe, in a couple of days. Hopefully, it would come out as close to what I see in my mind.<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-873374180085292740?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-4205263458138029492009-06-12T22:51:00.000-07:002009-06-12T23:00:35.685-07:00Portraits<span style="font-size:130%;">These drawings were from photographs sent to me by <a href="http://appleofmyeyes.kadyo.com/">Ann</a>. She made a special request for me to make portraits of them in pencil. The original photos are <a href="http://appleofmyeyes.kadyo.com/?p=771">here </a>in <a href="http://appleofmyeyes.kadyo.com/">her blog</a>.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Josh_2-1-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 448px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Josh_2-1-2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Justin_2-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 473px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Justin_2-2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Tin-tin_2-1-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 333px; height: 470px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Tin-tin_2-1-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">........</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-420526345813802949?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-51892449035377676172009-06-11T00:14:00.000-07:002009-06-11T09:14:52.149-07:00What global warming?<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/viewfrback.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 539px; height: 245px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/viewfrback.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">Dark clouds over the canyons.</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">What is going on? Here we are at the threshold of summer and we are having winter-like weather. I am back to wearing my sweaters and my jackets again to keep warm. At night I put on my flannel jammies to bed. I have put them away thinking I won't wear them again till fall comes. The clouds have been gray, and at times there have been scattered showers. The sun would peek for a while then hide behind the clouds again. It's been this way for three weeks now.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Summer will officially be here on the 21st of this month. So, now we put on hold going for a dip at the pool; going to the beach for a swim; and to the park for a picnic. Those new bikinis won't be worn till it gets warm. California weather is really crazy.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">I wonder if Mother Nature is refuting what some were saying about global warming. Could it be she was just having hot flashes? I want summer here and now. I am tired of cold gloomy days. It is depressing. I am tired of wearing layers of clothes. I want to wear my bikini!!!! Ha ha ha ha...like I really could.<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-5189244903537767617?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-68239983002477359722009-06-02T00:37:00.000-07:002009-06-02T00:37:00.942-07:00Is that you Don Quail?<span style="font-size:130%;">About a week ago I saw a strange looking bird meandering in my patio. It was my first time to see this kind of bird and I have wondered what it was. Then I suddenly remember to run upstairs to get my camera. I took aim and just then my battery ran out. Grrr...&@$#& I got back upstairs to get my spare battery and ran downstairs again. This time, however, the bird has wandered between the exterior wall of my house and a big pot of cactus plant. It was not a good shot. A few seconds later it took off in the backyard up the slope among the bushes.<br /><br />Three days later, I heard a strange sound in the patio again. I walked to the sliding glass door to see what it was and there it is the strange looking bird. I startled it and it took off, but came back in a few minutes. I aimed carefully this time, hiding behind the wall so as not to scare it. I got a good shot of it.<br /><br />It turned out that this is <a href="http://www.thatquailplace.com/quail/valley.htm">The California Valley Quail</a>. It is the State Bird. More about the bird <a href="http://www.thatquailplace.com/quail/valley.htm">here</a>.<br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/quail_1-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 349px; height: 301px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/quail_1-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">The California Valley Quail</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Click image to enlarge.</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/quial_2-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 274px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/quial_2-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Here it is at the back door, looking inside. It's been lurking in the back most of the time. It is now a familiar sight in my backyard. My husband said it is our mascot. LOL<br /><br />I don't have a clue as to its gender. I wonder if that thing on its head means its a male or a female. If it's a male, I'll call it Don, Don Quail. (Not to be confused with <a href="http://www.answers.com/topic/dan-quayle">Dan Quayle</a>. ) If it's a female I'll call it Donna. However, I prefer it to be a male.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/quial_3-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 340px; height: 259px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/quial_3-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Don has been looking inside the house for some 30 minutes or so. He could be watching me while I was watching TV. Or he could be looking at his image on the glass, thinking it's another quail. Or he could reading my blog. Yes, that's what he was doing. He's lurking, and when I'm not looking, he's reading my blog. LOL </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Oh, well, I ramble and talk nonsense at times, if not all the time.<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-6823998300247735972?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-37791871305318928472009-05-28T01:13:00.000-07:002009-05-28T14:24:52.994-07:00Just rambling along<span style="font-size:130%;">My so called art has gone <a href="http://my-art-corner.blogspot.com/">that away</a>; it's been there for quite a while now though. I am peeling my skin to something else, and I am now a rambling soul. Like a nut case, I would be rambling about nothing; talking to myself; </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >and to the freeway</span><span style="font-size:130%;">. I would at times include some rough sketches here to go with my subject. My header, a painting from an old black and white photo of my old house where I lived from age 4 till I left the country, would be replaced by something else. At this point, I don't know what it would be.<br /><br />The past few days nothing has happened, nothing exciting; mostly mundane, day to day routine. However, what's exciting to me might not be to other folks. Like for instance the seeds of some of my vegetable plants have started breaking out from the ground and that has gotten me excited. My husband has urged me to plant veggies in the backyard, and I did. He said that it would help control the weeds. Probably just his excuse, so he won't have to deal with them.<br /><br />I have planted vegetables years before, but have not done it for quite sometime now. My bones have been attacked by lazinitis (my word for indolence). Indolence sounds too harsh for me. :-D Too harsh, or I'm in denial.<br /><br />The economy is still in bad shape and I need all the help I can get. With a little tender loving care from me, I'll be able to supplement what little I have from my backyard. It is still days before I can harvest the fruits of my labor, but at this point I'm happy to see my plants get bigger and stronger.</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/longbeans.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 179px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/longbeans.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Long beans, or sitaw in Tagalog.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/greenbeans-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 239px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/greenbeans-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Green beans. This is known in the Philippines as Baguio beans.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/lemngrass.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/lemngrass.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Lemon grass. A friend gave me this. I haven't used this in any of my cooking, but I'll try it this time.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/jalapeno-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 239px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/jalapeno-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Jalapeno pepper. This one took a long time to germinate. I thought it would never come out.<br />It's so tiny the weeds are bigger than it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/kabocha-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 239px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/kabocha-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Kabocha squash.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/okra.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/okra.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Okra<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/tomato.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/tomato.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Tomatoes<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/swtpotato.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 227px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/swtpotato.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Sweet potatoes<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/zuchinni.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 238px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/zuchinni.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Zucchini<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/lotus1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 540px; height: 380px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/lotus1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Whoaaa! Lotus. Not mine. Nope...nope...nope. Would I be planting veggies if I own one of these? Nuts! I'd be driving this all over town the whole day. I saw it along one of our streets, and it happened to stop by our car and I took a shot at it. I rarely see one like this. If I'm not mistaken one of these would cost about $150,000? Aaacckkk! I'd owe my soul to the devil if I buy one like this.<br /><br />In any event, my eggplants haven't germinated yet. And...and...mumble... ...mumble. I'd better go to bed, it's past 1 AM. I'm bored already.<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-3779187130531892847?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-11802429728975301832009-05-14T05:06:00.000-07:002009-05-14T05:06:00.944-07:00Cactus Salad Anyone?<span style="font-size:130%;">I always see cactus leaves at Mexican grocery stores and at the Farmers' Market, and have wondered how it tastes. Some of these are sold with their tiny spines and nubs still on; some have been removed, and some have been diced already. And there are some prepared salads sold in small plastic containers.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/cactus_4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 403px; height: 378px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/cactus_4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The cactus or nopales at a grocery store.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;">On my visit to the Farmers' Market 2 weeks ago, I asked the Hispanic woman, who always sells oriental vegetables, about preparing cactus. She explained to me on how it is prepared, but did not give me details or recipe.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/cactus_3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 300px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/cactus_3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Cactus with the spines and nubs removed.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;">I thought I would give it a try and bought from her a dollar's worth which was 3 pieces and took it home. I found a <a href="http://www.rivenrock.com/recipes.html">recipe</a> in the internet, which was simple and easy to make.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">As per the woman's instruction I diced the cactus (I used one for now) after washing it, and boiled it for 10 minutes. Then I drained it. I chopped a medium sized tomato, some onions, a Jalapeno pepper and mixed all of them with the boiled cactus. I had it for dinner along with some rice, fried fish, and...I forgot the other dish. (Grrr...my senior moment.) It did not turn out the way I expected. It was blah...bland.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We have 2 Farmers' Market here: One on Sunday mornings at the college campus; and on Thursday afternoons at the Market Street on Old Town Newhall. I stopped by at the Market Street and found this Hispanic man selling some cactus. He told me that instead of boiling, he grills them. That way, he said, it doesn't lose the flavor and the food value of the vegetable. He makes sense.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/cactus_5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 440px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/cactus_5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Cactus salad<br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">So that's what I did. Well, not exactly. Rather than fire-up my grill, I popped the 2 remaining cactus in my toaster-oven and broiled them. When done, I diced them. And this time, I chopped some cilantro (coriander), tossed it in with the chopped jalapeno pepper, tomatoes and onions; and I squeezed a bit of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Key_Lime">Mexican key lime</a>. This time the cactus was crunchy, and the lime added flavor to it. It was uhm uhm good.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-1180242972897530183?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-82405385715369359472009-05-03T15:16:00.000-07:002009-05-03T23:11:47.392-07:00Manny Pacquiao...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Pacquiao-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 398px; height: 441px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/Pacquiao-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Manny Pacquiao<br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">...is one of <a href="http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,1894410_1894289_1894356,00.html">THE TIME Magazine</a>'s 100 Most Influential People in the World, in its May 11, 2009 issue. These include Sen. Edward Kennedy, Sec. of State Hillary Clinton, Saudi Minister Norah al-Faiz, French Pres. Nicolas Sarkozy, Ted Turner, Philanthropist, Actor-Philanthropist Brad Pitt, Musician John Legend, Capt. Richard Phillips, Physician and Sociologist Nicholas Christakis, and many more shakers and movers; scientists and thinkers; artists and entertainers; and heroes and icons.<br /><br />Boxing is not the sport I watch, so I have no way of knowing his prowess in the ring. All I know is that Manny Pacquiao's name reverberates in the sports world. Now I leave it to the pros and quote here from <a href="http://www.time.com/time/">Time Magazine</a>.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-weight: bold;">Manny Pacquiao</span><br />By Lennox Lewis<br /><br />Pound for pound, Manny Pacquiao is the best boxer in the world. But even more important than holding that distinction, Manny has connected with the people of his home country, the Philippines, to the point where he's almost like a god. The people have rallied behind him and feel like they're a part of him, because they can see his talent, his dedication, his grace and his class. The grip he holds over the Philippines is similar to Nelson Mandela's influence in South Africa. I can surely see Manny becoming the Philippine President one day.<br /><br />In fact, he already ran for Congress in the Philippines but lost, in part because voters thought he could do more for the country as an inspirational champion boxer. I agree with the Filipino people. Manny, 30, already has a true global reach, and his influence will only expand as he gets better. Manny is from the Muhammad Ali school. He's a boxer, a puncher and a mover — a champion in four weight divisions. He doesn't stand there and take shots. He throws that wicked jab and is so quick to dodge trouble.<br /><br />Boxing needs a guy like Manny. Too often, when something positive develops, the sport takes two steps backward; you never know where the black eye is going to come from. With Manny, you don't have to worry about that. He just loves the sport and knows he's carrying the hopes of his country in the ring.</blockquote><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lewis</span><span style="font-style: italic;">, the former world heavyweight champion, is a boxing commentator for HBO Sports</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Fast Fact:</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> Pacquiao is the first athlete the Philippine Postal Corp. has honored with his own stamp.</span><br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-8240538571536935947?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-35668220997631666852009-04-29T17:13:00.000-07:002009-04-29T18:50:31.110-07:00A piano prodigy...<span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">...Ethan Bortnick. He's amazing.<br /><br /> </span><object height="344" width="425"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UdvwvuEr0f4&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-3566822099763166685?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-2347431569127880612009-04-25T09:30:00.000-07:002009-04-25T09:30:00.629-07:00They're back...<span style="font-size:130%;">The loss of the hummingbird chicks was heartbreaking. It was sad that they were devoured by a hungry blue jay, lurking in my backyard. However, a couple of days before the tragic end of the chicks, other birds have been building a nest nearby. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/pigeon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 328px; height: 315px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/pigeon.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">Click image to enlarge.</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />A few feet away this pigeon had scoured the area and had built a nest in this same basket they have occupied a few times before. </span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/pigeon_3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 363px; height: 322px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/pigeon_3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Yesterday I found this pigeon inside the basket, with some twigs for bedding. </span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/pidge_eggs.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 266px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/pidge_eggs.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />And, lo and behold, I found two eggs. From what I remember they usually lay 2. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Last year I was about to throw away my old straw hat, then I though, maybe, I </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/hatnest-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 294px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/hatnest-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">should hang it in my pergola, for the birds to build their nest. And to my surprise, they did! I made sure it was away from the reach of cats or rats. Hopefully, the <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">blue jay</span> won't get to it. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/babyfinches.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 323px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/babyfinches.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">I took a ladder to get to peer inside the hat and I found some baby <a href="http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/House_Finch/id"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">finches</span></a>. I don't know exactly how many they are, but I'm sure there are more than two. A few days more and they would be big enough to fly and be on their own. Right now they are being fed by both parents. I see them fly in to bring the food and take turns feeding the brood.<br /><br />Here's crossing my fingers that they make it out of the nest and enjoy their adulthood, and come back next year.<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-234743156912788061?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-33191817917000138302009-04-20T23:15:00.000-07:002009-04-24T16:11:31.591-07:00My feathered friend<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/hum_bird-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 335px; height: 310px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/hum_bird-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />This hummingbird started refurbishing the old nest on this shell </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >parol</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> before spring officially began. The old nest had been battered by the elements and it needed patching up and retrofitting. So, when it was ready, little </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:130%;" >hummingbird</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> sat in it and laid a couple of eggs. It sat there for about 2 weeks until the eggs hatched. I could see what was going on every time I'm in the kitchen, as the nest is right there smack in front of the window. Later on, she was feeding her little brood, flying out to find food and coming back to feed them, then sitting on them.</span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/hum_bird3-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 302px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/hum_bird3-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">The mother feeding her chicks.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">It was a delight to see this going on right before my eyes. And anytime I have a chance to take a picture, I drop whatever I was doing and grab my camera.<br /><br />Yesterday morning I was in the kitchen watching her come and go, feeding her brood. Then after lunch as I was washing dishes I looked up and to my horror a big <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%20com=" animals="" birds="" html="" width="400" height="334"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">blue jay</span></a> was right there on the parol. I screamed. The blue jay flew away. My husband hastily went outside to the patio to see if any damage had been done. I watched him, trying to read his face. Then he came in the kitchen and said, "They are gone, the blue jay ate them. I never thought those birds are predators."<br /><br />Oh, no, not again. A year ago some predator did the same thing to this same nest. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I felt so bad for the mother hummingbird.</span> <span style="font-size:130%;">So sad. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Mother hummingbird came back and looked around then flew away. A few minutes later she came again; tried to land on the nest but couldn't, some parts of it came loose. It hovered for a while then flew away. She came back a few times more then finally realized that her brood are gone then flew away and never came back.<br /><br />My husband and I were looking forward to the day the chicks are big enough to fly on their own. It is, however, not going to happen, not anymore.<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-3319181791700013830?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-50063559429503861562009-04-17T23:42:00.000-07:002009-04-19T22:07:17.872-07:00One more time...<span style="font-size:130%;">Every TV channel has featured that audition, which has turned her into an instant star. Someone has dug up an old cd recorded in 1999, where she was one of the singers. And here she proves that she can really sing; that she's not a one-trick pony.<br /><br />Go Susan Boyle! </span><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/i5ETPG26ALE&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/i5ETPG26ALE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-5006355942950386156?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-31850761537504983102009-04-12T17:08:00.000-07:002009-04-13T10:06:11.699-07:00It's fun out there...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/sunnyday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 262px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/sunnyday.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">It was a very nice warm day out there. The sun was up, and no dark clouds hovering above. I, however, could not enjoy it; am confined to my bedroom feeling ill. All I could do was look out through the door, from my bed. It's not fun being sick. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/contrail_2-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 274px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/contrail_2-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The pilots are having fun, enjoying the beautiful day; making squiggles of contrails with their jet planes. What fun! Wish I could do that. That is, if I have the nerve to board a jet plane flying 600 miles per hour. It must be scary looking down with nothing below the feet except the earth way down 1,000's of feet. It is unlike being on board a jumbo jet where passengers are enclosed. There are walls, and a ceiling that make one feel more secure, like being in a house right on the ground. But, of course, when looking out the tiny window, one is reminded that the plane is above ground, up there thousands of feet high.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/contrail_3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 289px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/contrail_3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Now the pilots have made curly trails, that look like a loose crochet knot. They sure are having fun.<br /><br />In the meantime, I lay in bed trying to pass the time away reading. And what happens when one reads a food magazine? One craves them, those mouth watering foods...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/ham-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 311px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/ham-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>...like this lovely ham...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/cake-1-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 209px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/cake-1-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />...and this delicious looking dessert.<br /><br />Life sucks when one is ill. On the other hand, I'm still lucky to be able to eat whatever I wanted. My husband fried some fresh sardines. LOL And he grilled chicken thighs that I have marinated before getting bed ridden.<br /><br />I stayed mostly upstairs as it's warmer up here. From time to time, I would sneak in that room where my pc is. But when I start to get cold again, being attacked by whatever bug bit me, I crawl back in bed. I wish this bug would get tired of me and leave me alone. I wish it would get tired of my smell, since I haven't bathed for the last few days. What if I gas it? It might leave, or might not. It's known that yucky things like yucky smell.<br /><br />I'll miss the fun at the Easter Picnic at the park. Oh, well. I'm getting a little better now; have spent a longer time here on my pc. And, there will be another day...<br /><br />Happy Easter, all!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-3185076153750498310?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-26983594745514151432009-03-31T23:39:00.000-07:002009-04-01T23:05:02.842-07:00Redondo Beach once again<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3232-1Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 339px; height: 204px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3232-1Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The Getty Museum on the hill.<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Click image to enlarge</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;">We headed down south once more hitting the Freeway 405; and we passed the <a href="http://thegettymuseum.us/"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Getty Museum</span></a> which was sitting atop a hill, making a commanding view of most of the valley below it. I remember once when I went there with a couple of friends from New York. The painting I remember most during that visit was that of <a href="http://www.getty.edu/art/gettyguide/artObjectDetails?artobj=947"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Van Gogh's Irises</span></a>. There, of course, are other paintings and sculptures done by the masters. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Before heading to Redondo Beach, we swung by a computer show in Manhattan Beach. This show is a must for my husband, him being a computer fanatic. It's held on the last Saturday of each month, and March 28th was the date. Just a couple of miles away is Redondo Beach where we usually have lunch.<br /><br />We had for lunch our usual fill of a Korean hot and spicy soup at a restaurant on the pier. Then we took a leisurely walk. There were the usual people fishing, strolling, kissing, sunning and whatever.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3233-2Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 218px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3233-2Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Down the ramp to the marina we spotted this lone young </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:130%;" ><a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);" href="http://www.birds.cornell.edu/AllAboutBirds/BirdGuide/Mallard.html">mallard</a> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">floating by itself. The first time I've seen one on this water.</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3235-1Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 340px; height: 248px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3235-1Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">On one of the boats, this man had a big container of catch. He was dumping them in a pail hanging in the water to keep the fish alive and fresh.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6yj2HXweh4U/SdMALpgSzII/AAAAAAAAASg/IdIulQFSriE/s1600-h/spidercrab.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 250px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6yj2HXweh4U/SdMALpgSzII/AAAAAAAAASg/IdIulQFSriE/s200/spidercrab.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319595784974552194" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">A spider crab at the fish store. Tastes like crab, not spider; though, I have not eaten a spider, yet.<br /><br />Down at the boardwalk I bought ice-cream at the parlor. We sat right by the walk, licking our dessert when this young boy started having a tantrum.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3240-1Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 326px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3240-1Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">He laid on the ground demanding ice-cream from his mother.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3239-1Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 302px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3239-1Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">He sat up still whining. His mother tried to coax him out of there...</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3241-1Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 343px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3241-1Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">...but no deal. He stood...er...sat his ground.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3242-1Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 439px; height: 370px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3242-1Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">He moved away from the entrance...</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3243-1Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 345px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3243-1Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">...then stood still whining.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3244-1Modified.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 379px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/img_3244-1Modified.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Finally, mother couldn't wait, and she took him away.<br /><br />The show is over. We decided to head home.<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-2698359474551415143?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-20630743946482156562009-03-25T15:10:00.000-07:002009-03-25T15:13:21.753-07:00Follow...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />.....the......<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">.....d o t s....<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:180%;" ><a href="http://my-art-corner.blogspot.com/">..............</a></span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-2063074394648215656?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-55411358141123233732009-03-21T01:28:00.000-07:002009-03-22T00:15:45.209-07:00Journey back home<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" >Someone sent me the link to this video and I got so emotional listening to the song, and viewing the sights of Manila and its surrounding cities. These places were my old stumping ground and they will always have a soft spot in my heart. There were a lot of fond memories, and some sad ones, that I've spent there. Although, I've been away for a long time, and the landscape has changed a lot, I still feel a lump in my throat every time I see a picture of the old country.<br /><br />Perhaps others who spent some time back home feel the same way as I do. The video here was put together by <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/lancerpntgrd">lancerpntgrd</a>; and he had given me permission to post it. The music is by the band <a href="http://www.journeymusic.com/">Journey</a> who had a concert back there in March with our very own Arnel Pineda.<br /></span><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1D370HHIZHk&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1D370HHIZHk&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I'm so homesick...<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-5541135814112323373?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-62590442689630112982009-03-11T23:58:00.000-07:002009-03-12T00:07:02.372-07:00I got myself...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />...a freebie.<br /><a href="http://my-art-corner.blogspot.com/2009/03/cute-little-freebie.html">Click<br />right<br />here.</a><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-6259044268963011298?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-41202583601239307592009-03-10T01:09:00.000-07:002009-03-10T01:31:17.095-07:00Photo tag...tag...tag<p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;" >I was tagged by <a href="http://nona.akoni.info/">Nona</a>, <span style="font-style: italic;">muy bonita</span>. LOL This one is easy. The rules are: pluck the sixth picture from your photo file and post in your blog. And then tag as many as you want. That's it. As for me, I'll toss it and whoever wants to catch and do it, may do so. </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">Here’s mine.</span><br /></span></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6yj2HXweh4U/SbTPVSydITI/AAAAAAAAASY/5SG3m7R6xTY/s1600-h/canlily.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6yj2HXweh4U/SbTPVSydITI/AAAAAAAAASY/5SG3m7R6xTY/s200/canlily.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311097825304322354" border="0" /></a></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I have 8 photo files. Each of which contains a certain kind of photo, so it would be easy for me to look for a picture. The one above was from the Gallery, the first file.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">That is an image of a yellow <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canna_%28plant%29">Canna Lilly</a>. I bought that plant about 3 years ago. The vendor who sold it to me didn't know the name and told me the color of the flower was white. I stumbled on a plant just like this one at a nursery, and that's how I got to know its name. And the flower came out to be yellow. Yey...I like it more than a white one. It, however, took a long time to bloom.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">There it is Nona. I'm done with the tag.</span><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-4120258360123930759?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-16262516161266159902009-03-04T00:49:00.000-08:002009-03-04T00:49:00.661-08:00Thanks, but no thanks!<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >I have some interesting emails in my spam box. They came from out of the country; and some are, supposedly, Asians as indicated by their names. They have very tempting propositions, which would make me a very wealthy person, if I snatch their baits. Here below is one of those emails: </span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *<br /></div><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;font-size:100%;" >Dearest Friend,</span><div id=":5k" class="ArwC7c ckChnd"> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:100%;">My name is Mrs. Rosie Chook, I am married to (Eng Mr.Pee Chook) from United Kingdom (U.K) who has an appointment in Tokyo, Japan as the chief Managing director to(ABC Uzuki Association Tokyo-Japan) under Engineering project/contract awarding section.</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:100%;">My husband died as a result of brief illness called heart attack, while he was coming back from (ASA) new location area on project inspection on Saturday 10th December 2006.</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Before his death as a result of our joint account venture we have $7.3 million (US) dollars in our fixed deposit account.<br /><br />Dear one I was brought up as an orphan and was married to my late husband for twenty years without a child and am of age, I am 68 years now and am suffering from kidney infection and a long time cancer of the lungs, which has partially affected my brain, and from all indication my condition is really deteriorating. According to my doctors, my health is very poor because of the cancer ailment, I can not stay to live up three months ahead, and I am having serious problem with my husband's family members.</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I am not afraid of death hence I know where I am going. I know that I am going to be in the bosom of the Lord. Exodus 14 VS 14 says that the lord will fight my course and I shall hold my peace. Therefore I need a God fearing person who will assure me that he/she will use this fund to help the Motherless babies, Orphanage, Charity organization and less privileged once, and using for word of God.</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I took this decision because I don't have any child that will inherit this money. As soon as I receive your reply I shall give you the contact of the Bank.</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I want you to always pray for me because I don't have many days to live.</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Thanks<br />Yours in the lord Mrs. Rosie Chook.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *</p><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >She's not a friend. I have never met her; never interacted with her before - not in person, not through emails nor through message boards. Why would she ask me for help? Why would she trust me? That's a lot of money - $7.3 M - to give to a total stranger. I assumed that's what she wanted.<br /><br />Now if I get that money, what would I do with it? Would I give it to charity? Keep it? MY GOODNESS it is so much. I could probably keep some...or most...of it to myself. What would I do with it? Gosh...<span style="font-style: italic;">ngatog na ang tumbong ko sa dami. Di na ako mapakali niyan. (My derriere would be shaking with all that money. I wouldn't be able to keep still.) </span> Okay, relax! Here's what I would do, if ever:<br /><br />I would build myself a big house. Not a mansion, just one big house for me and my family. A mansion would be too overwhelming for me. Buy a fancy car - hmmm...maybe a Rolls Royce, to replace my old rusty Ford Escort. Then I can brag that all I do is drive around in my Rolls. I'll hire a live-in housekeeper, so I won't have to do all the chores at home. I'll have more time to myself and paint all day...my nails, that is. Oh, wait, I'll summon a manicurist to do that for me. I forgot I'm already loaded (with money). My relatives will multiply. Some I've never known nor seen will come out of the woodwork and claim to be related to me. All of them will be forming a line at my door. I'll share some with them. Why not? <span style="font-style: italic;">Baka isumpa nila ako. (They might curse me.) </span>I'll go on a tour twice or thrice a year; visit my friends out there. I'll buy a yatch; build a vacation house in Baguio. <span style="font-style: italic;">Sus, bagyo na ang panaginip ko. (Big dreams with a vengeance, just like a hurricane.)<br /><br /></span>But, wait! Hold on! I am not going to fall prey to this scam. I know it's a lot of money, but in the end I will lose whatever little money I have in the bank. I am not a rich person. No! I have very little means.<br /><br />Her bank contact could be anybody. For all I know, it could be herself, not a bank official. And when the money is to be transferred to me, she or the bank will need my account number. Once I give it...wham! they got me. Yeah, they will get me, if I am stupid enough to fall for this scam. I don't think so. I may not be the smartest person around, but I'm not a sucker. Nope, I wouldn't let Ms. Chook go to the bank laughing. I will instead forward her email to the proper authorities, and let them deal with her...or him.<br /><br /><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >So there!</span> :-p<br /></span><br /><p style="text-align: center;"></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-1626251616126615990?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-24904565812332654622009-02-17T00:35:00.000-08:002009-02-17T01:06:16.787-08:00Walk don't run...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />To the <a style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" href="http://my-art-corner.blogspot.com/2009/02/old-oil-paintings.html">other <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">side</span></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">. </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://my-art-corner.blogspot.com/2009/02/old-oil-paintings.html"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Click here</span></a> to view</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The <a href="http://my-art-corner.blogspot.com/2009/02/old-oil-paintings.html"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">amateur show</span></a>. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">;-)</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-2490456581233265462?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-67167230806308690992009-02-13T06:10:00.000-08:002009-02-13T14:25:36.434-08:00Brrrr...it's freezing<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >It rained last Sunday night, and, brrr, it was freezing. I was tired from walking that day and I slept like a log.<br /><br />Next morning I woke up rather late, but refreshed. I went down to the kitchen and had breakfast; then back upstairs to make my rumpled bed. I walked in the bedroom and the curtains were already pulled to let the sun in. I looked out to see if there's more rain. There was none, but the top of the hill beyond was covered with snow. I gasped, "Whoooaaa!"<br /><br />"Come, come," I said excitedly to my husband as I strutted to the room next to the bedroom where he was. "There's snow out there!" I was like a kid seeing snow for the first time. He came in big strides and with a glow in his face looked out beyond to the snow covered hilltop. "Oh, wow. Take pictures of it," he murmured.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/snowtop_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 271px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/snowtop_2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Click image to enlarge.</span><br /></div><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" ><br />Late last year there was fire right on that hill and beyond. It was a scary sight. All through that night, I kept getting up to see if the fire would come down from the hill. It did not. The firefighters were keeping watch and were ready to douse it, if it got out of control.<br /><br />This was not the first time we had snow here in our town. Sometime back in the late 80's we had a flurry of the white stuff right here in our town. My backyard, front yard and all over our neighborhood was covered with snow. It didn't last long, though. By noon time it had melted. The neighborhood kids had fun. School was closed due to snow. Rarely does this happen and it was the news of the day. I called the office to let them know I couldn't come to work. Vehicles here are not equipped with snow tires and it's dangerous driving in slick roads.<br /><br />This time, however, we didn't have a lot. Mother Nature gave us a sprinkling of it on the hill, but it was a sight to behold.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/snowtop.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 284px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/snowtop.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Click image to enlarge.</span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">The shot above was taken a little before noon time. Some of the snow had melted by then, but it was still a beautiful scene. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">*********************************************</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-6716723080630869099?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-67588880184758755532009-02-08T01:18:00.000-08:002009-02-08T01:25:27.634-08:00And the award goes to ME...again!<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >This award was tossed to me by <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.akoni.info/">Ghee</a>,</span> the lovely. Thank you so much. Although my blog is crappy as can be, you and all my blog friends are very supportive. You all come and read my drivel; my nonsense which others can't stand. They read and leave in a huff. But...but...they leave their trail...their droppings. How do I know? Herlock Sholmes, my private eye, told me. Just kidding folks. Let's not be too serious. Let's laugh, sing, eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we d - i - e.</span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />That said, let me show off the awardz shown here below:</span><br /><br /><p><a href="http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f227/amesweet/?action=view&current=awardfrcarlots3.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f227/amesweet/awardfrcarlots3.jpg" alt="award fr Carlots" border="0" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f227/amesweet/?action=view&current=awardfrcarlots2.png" target="_blank"><img src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f227/amesweet/awardfrcarlots2.png" alt="award fr Carlots" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><a href="http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f227/amesweet/?action=view&current=awardfrcarlots.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f227/amesweet/awardfrcarlots.jpg" alt="award fr Carlots" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><em><br /></em></span></p> <p style="text-align: left;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Now the rules:</em></span></p> <p style="text-align: left;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>List 5 addictions and pass this tag to your friends.</em></span><em><br /></em></p><ul><li><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Of course, I am addicted to blogging</em>! Why would I be here in the first place? I would be napping, snacking or day dreaming, if I'm not. I have made friends from all over the world. Good people, different races, tall and short, men and women...and I like them all. </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">Pautang nga sa inyo. (Can you loan me some money? </span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;">It's a joke, please don't take it seriously.</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">)</span><br /></span></li></ul> <span style="font-size:130%;"><em></em><em></em><em></em></span><ul><li><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>I am addicted to playing computer games. <span style="font-family:times new roman;">This is a good way to exercise my brain cells. Inactive brain cells will deteriorate in time and that will result in amnesia, fever, blurred vision, hearing impairment, chocolate cravings, lechon cravings, ice-cream cravings, arthritis and so forth. This is another one of those drivels, if you don't know, yet. But it's true I'm a game addict. If I'm out there, away from my computer, I have my cellphone to play with...it has games in it. Hooray for cellphones. </span></em><img style="font-family: times new roman;" src="http://www.akoni.info/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="wp-smiley" /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></li></ul><ul><li style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>This is not an addiction, it's more of a hobby. I like collecting bird houses and mini-houses. I find them cute. I have quite a collection and they come in different sizes, shapes, and color. Hmm...it doesn't sound right for this category. Eh, just a fill in.<br /></em></span></li></ul><ul><li><span style="font-size:130%;">Addiction number 4. Hmmm...I guess, I would have to say sleeping. But this one doesn't sound like an addiction. It should be called a hobby. </span><br /></li></ul><span style="font-size:130%;"><em></em></span><ul><li style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em> I don't seem to have any for number 5. I must be a good kid not to have a lot of addictions. Cigarette, tobacco, alcohol...not one of these. Nada, wala na, awanen and no more. The end.<br /></em></span></li></ul><span style="font-size:130%;">Now, I'll toss this into cyberspace and whoever wants to catch it, do so at your own risk. LOL<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-6758888018475875553?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-3028091908394139652009-01-25T23:47:00.000-08:002009-01-26T01:07:08.019-08:00The Birds<span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >The spring-like temperature was good while it lasted. It rained Wednesday night and when I awoke the next morning the ground was wet. There was a gray pall over my town that day. The sun peeked for a while during the morning hours and most of the afternoon it was behind the clouds. The rains came intermittently most of the day. It was good for the plants. Weeds? No! Well, maybe in the hills beyond.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />The temperature dipped to the low 60's. I stayed indoors and worked on some of my sketches in my study room. I was so engrossed in it when I heard loud harsh "caw, caw, caw." It was a flock of </span><a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;" href="http://www.birds.cornell.edu/AllAboutBirds/BirdGuide/American_Crow.html">crows</a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> cawing. They landed on my neighbor's backyard tree. These birds give me the shivers. I don't know what it is about them, but that is how I feel when I see them hovering about. They specially like to roost in groups and make a lot of noise.</span><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/crows.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 256px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/crows.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >The crows on my neighbor's tree.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >(click image to enlarge)</span><br /></div><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" ><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I padded to the front bedroom, the master bedroom, and there I saw another flock right on my tree which was so close to my house. They scampered off as soon as they saw me spying on them. Then they landed on a birch tree across the street. There were about 20 of them. Eeewww! They reminded me of that movie </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0056869/"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">The Birds</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;">, with</span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0687189/"> </a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:georgia;" ><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0687189/">Suzanne Pleshette</a>.</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> That must be why they give me the creeps.</span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/crows_3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 261px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/crows_3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >The flock across the street.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></div><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">After a little while they were gone. Good. I'd rather have the smaller birds around, the sparrows, pigeons, and hummingbirds. It won't be long though, and I'd see them in my backyard. In the meantime, I'd have to put up with these blackbirds.</span><br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-302809190839413965?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18185959.post-83412905988291737512009-01-16T23:33:00.000-08:002009-01-19T23:39:57.972-08:00Winter, or Spring?<span style="font-size:130%;">While some parts of the nation are <a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);" href="http://funnfamily.blogspot.com/2009/01/snow-day.html">buried in <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">snow</span></a>, we here in Southern California are enjoying a warm and sunny weather.</span> <span style="font-size:130%;">This is the crazy weather California is known for. </span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/mari_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 165px; height: 539px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/mari_2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">I dressed light today. I wore my big grey T-shirt and my maroon sweat pants and a pair of old sandals. I drove down the hill to the park to see what folks were up to. </span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">(click images to enlarge)</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/park.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 351px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/park.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">There were a handful of people enjoying the nice spring-like temperature. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/view_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 335px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/view_1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Ah! What a view! Dem thar hills have no snow.</span> <span style="font-size:130%;">No need to bundle up tonight.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/view_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 295px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/view_2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Hello down there!</span> <span style="font-size:130%;">Down there is our postage stamp downtown.</span> <span style="font-size:130%;"> A little community. It is really a small part of a city, but we call it our downtown. </span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/time.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 384px; height: 440px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/time.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">I got "down there" and there was the time. </span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/temp-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 406px; height: 440px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/temp-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">And look at that temperature! Perfect day to wear a bikini. LOL Like I'm going to dare wear one. I don't even own a one-piece bathing suit. I did have a couple a long time ago, but...never mind.<br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/sidewlk.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 356px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/sidewlk.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Some people sat at an outdoor coffee shop to have a snack and chat. </span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/shopper.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 394px; height: 212px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/shopper.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">A lady had done some shopping early in the day. </span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/soccerplyr.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 425px; height: 417px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/soccerplyr.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">At a nearby junior high the girls' soccer team were on practice. At this time school was already out for the day. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/walk_dog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 401px; height: 440px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/walk_dog.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">A young man was taking his dog for a walk. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/old_glory.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 334px;" src="http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c64/Rena007/old_glory.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">It was a little bit windy, and <a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Glory">Old Glory</a> was flying high. The blue sky as background was perfect. Truly a nice day.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18185959-8341290598829173751?l=zmorenaq.blogspot.com'/></div>Marihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00058845577670542898noreply@blogger.com28